


Permanent Marks

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [78]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Tattooist Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Hermione loses a bet.Bellatrix has a new client.Luna enjoys setting people up.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: One-Shot [78]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429282
Comments: 2
Kudos: 127





	Permanent Marks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AliasGlasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliasGlasses/gifts).



> unedited
> 
> my 100th Bellamione specific work  
> yay

The tattoo parlour was smaller than Hermione had imagined it. The space was well known in certain circles, and Luna had gushed about its quality before they’d arrived, so much so that Hermione had expected something grand and magnificent.

Not a hole in the wall at the odd end of town where she hadn’t roamed since childhood.

There were three booths within its walls, four people on staff, and a revolving menagerie going in and out its doors as people were tattooed, pierced, _modified_ in all ways pretty and startling. The management was clinical and fashionable and no-nonsense, the artwork and jewellery all beautiful.

It still wasn’t Hermione’s first choice.

It wasn’t even her last.

Really, it wasn’t even _her_ choice at all.

It was just a _bet._ A rather silly bet, she admitted, hating having lost it. She took the time to remind herself endlessly as she was led to the back that this was _her_ fault. If she hadn’t been so stuck on taunting her peers she’d never have had to do this, she might have scraped a way out that didn’t involve permanence. 

_“I’ll finish summa cum laude.”_

An easy statement, but she _hadn’t._

Luna _had._

Now Hermione was within these walls, where she didn’t want to be, rolling up her sleeves as the woman who would be piercing her tried - _rather strongly_ \- to make small-talk and banter about the coming summer heat. The artwork had at least been Hermione’s choice, a lovely imprint of a raven midflight. It was beautiful in its own way and she would have readily purchased a sticker of it, but getting it embedded beneath the skin of her shoulder - _forever_ \- was a daunting prospect.

But there was no real way for her to back out, not now.

“You ready?” the tattooist asked, face open and inviting.

Hermione tried to remember her name - _Bellatrix_ \- and fought to shut off her own nerves. It wasn’t happening though, and with a long and drawn-out sigh, she nodded.

“Nope. Let’s get on with it.”

Hermione squished her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, both stiffening as she waited on Bellatrix to start. 

Nothing.

“Hold on.”

Hermione opened her eyes and let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“What? Why?”

Bellatrix pulled back, hands dropping to her sides, “Are you going to be alright with this? I don’t want you passing out on me. Hasn’t happened yet, and I’m not starting today.”

The timbre of her voice brokered absolutely no disagreement or dismissal, and Hermione took a second or two to collect herself before replying. Deep breath in, deep breath out, a second or two more before she felt stable enough to actually answer.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, eyes strong and voice steady. “I’m good. You can start.”

The older woman hummed and turned down to her work, the methodical application of ink and metal was swift as she flowed from line to line, filling them out and bringing them to life. Bit by bit, second by second, the raven took shape upon Hermione’s shoulder, and soon enough the persistent stabbing had become a flowing rush of endorphins. Hermione fell down deep into a zone she hadn’t expected to reach, the pain still present but the rush of doing something so very against her own character - _she’d never once imagined getting a tattoo, and she had no idea how her rather uptight family would react, were they to ever get a good look at it_ \- was puffing her chest out with pride and courage.

When it seemed that quite a long time had passed - _moments Hermione spent inside herself, in her own memories, study and education rolling over and over even though exams had finished last month_ \- she looked to the clock on the wall and nearly gasped.

Five minutes.

_Five minutes!_

Hermione’s eyes rolled to the side as she fought to look where Bellatrix was in the design, and a hiccup shattered the white-noise of the piercing gun.

Bellatrix wasn’t even a third of the way through.

Hermione groaned and leaned back further into the chair.

\---

When all was said and done Hermione had turned limp, bone-tired and exhausted. Luna had been sitting out at the front of the shop, her phone in her lap and a smile on her face as she waited for Hermione to stand up and head out. But by the time it was done Hermione didn’t _want_ to head out.

The chair was damned comfortable, just like the chairs attached to the dental engine at her parent’s practice. Besides the comfort, Bellatrix’s lively banter had become quite fun to engage in.

The woman had many, many facets to her nature that Hermione would never have even guessed at simply by looking at her. She was an avid nature lover, and Hermione was too, so eventually the talk had turned towards the merits reintroducing - _via cloning, a topic Bellatrix knew a hell of a lot about, thanks to a bio-chem degree she’d picked up nearly a decade ago, a fact that left Hermione wondering just why the graduate had decided to work at a tattoo parlour_ \- extinct species to boost local ecologies, bickered over what shows and documentaries they found best - _and Hermione would_ ** _die_ **_on her hill, her opinion being that David Attenborough had a better voice for narration than Werner Herzog_ \- and what books they’d fallen in love with over the years. It was quiet except the sound of their voices, the gentle hum of machinery, and before too long the conversation had turned towards relationships and family - _at which point Bellatrix had whipped out a photo-roll of her young daughter, along with a smattering of insults towards the man she’d divorced, a pride button in the woman’s wallet catching Hermione’s eye_ \- and other things more _intimate_ than idle banter.

As Hermione fished out the cash to pay - _and tip, Bellatrix deserved every cent and more_ \- she stuttered to a halt as the woman’s fingers touched her own, mind made up and bravery blossoming within her heart. 

Hermione reached back into her purse and pulled out a thin pen and another bill, scribbling within its margins a string of numbers. Her fingers were shaking as she held it out face up for Bellatrix to take, her explanation being that it was a final, deserved tip for wonderful company.

As Hermione left, Luna standing to follow, she looked back into the shop and watched as Bellatrix held the bill between her hands, looking up with a smile on her face.


End file.
